


Parallels, Deaths, and a Too-Fast Heartbeat

by katawa_shoujos_bitch



Category: Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Post-Canon, i reference hajime/chiaki but its not really there, i use too much shitty awkward prose, kind of, partly??, too edgy for its own good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 14:20:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22397539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katawa_shoujos_bitch/pseuds/katawa_shoujos_bitch
Summary: In which Hajime finds himself reacting to Nagito's actions the wrong way.Then Nagito's death.Then Nagito's awakening from the program.And he thinks about Chiaki. And Nagito. And maybe, Hajime can figure out his own thoughts and step into the future with a new kind of happiness.
Relationships: Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito
Comments: 2
Kudos: 74





	Parallels, Deaths, and a Too-Fast Heartbeat

Trial.

Trial.

Trial.

...Trial.

Despite the horror that permeated every single occurrence, the ritual--murder investigation trial execution murder investigation trial execution--became almost monotonous, their depleting numbers became little more than calm counting backward, corpse after corpse and the timer ticking down and you have until noon to come forward or the rest of your friends will die, traitor, these fireworks are bombs.

The video message seemed to seal the deal. None of the words that came from Nagito’s lips were particularly menacing on their own--not after the fireworks reveal, that is. Still, despite his amused words and tone, the narrow, set eyes held no joy. Green tinted screen sparking with static, and were these last words, after all?

That was a suffocating thought.

Still, when the fire began to burn, they ran to put it out, fire grenades in hand, useless as they were in the end. The sprinklers saved them, instead, revealing the tattered curtain.

They were all made to stand outside, then. Six frozen bodies stood, with only slight shaking, waiting for the fumes to clear. Hajime did not shiver--he wished he would, wished those emotions would bubble to the surface, rather than this concealed malice burning in the back of his head. Deep dread he couldn’t place.

When they reentered, Chiaki pointed out the tattered curtain with soft, even tones. Even now, she did not waver, pointing one steady finger to the back of the warehouse. Hajime couldn’t help but be a little bit calmed by her voice--she did seem to have that effect, after all. She always had--on everyone, but him especially. For a moment, he allowed his apprehension fade, and he appreciated her life; with everyone who had left them, she still stood here, steady and hearty and very her.

“I smell somethin’.”

Hajime tensed up once again; the last time Akane had smelled “somethin’”, it had been Byakuya’s corpse under the table.

“Blood?”

“Nah--well, maybe?--I’ve never smelled somethin’ like this before.”

“Well, that can’t be helped. A bunch of random stuff all got burned together…”

The voices washed over Hajime, failing to enter his consciousness, going unprocessed and unrecognized by his ears. Instead, all he could hear were his own slow, methodical footsteps, echoing in the empty warehouse, the sound cold and empty.

Sure enough, the edges of the torn curtain were seared, burnt, with flakes of ash fluttering off. It was almost pretty, in a creepy sort of way.

Behind the curtain, though...

The first thing Hajime saw was the tip of the spear. Rope tied around it in an obnoxiously elegant loop, sprawled out beside the body.

The _body._

Tied off at all four limbs. Splattered with his own blood from dozens of lacerations. _Dots of blood in white hair._ Knife through the right hand. The expression on his face, the sheer horror—

Nagito Komaeda.

Hajime stumbled backward. It was like everything had shut down; sudden darkness that covered his vision, no warning, no light, no sound, no _Nagito?_

He’d never liked Nagito, right? It wouldn’t make _sense_ to harbor any affection for the guy, regardless of the nature of that affection. Nagito had never _not_ been there, seeming to do nothing but create confusion and frustration… So, obviously, it would make no sense to hold any sort of positive feelings for a guy like that. A guy who brought nothing but confusion and misery.

But, no. That wasn’t true.

Hajime’s vision seemed to spark. The rotating lights above him created rotating shadows that suddenly made him very sick.

Nagito had been kind in the beginning. That was indisputable, true. When his true colors had begun to show, it had hit Hajime almost as hard as the deaths did—effectively, that person, the Nagito he thought he knew, was dead before the end of the very first trial.

But, then again, here was his corpse.

It was numbing, really, seeing him here, like this. Time stopped and it felt like the floor might collapse any second.

There was nothing left to do now but investigate. Find the killer, they’d be executed, and then… things would go on as normal? Everything would be the same, but with even _fewer_ people. Nagito was such a character the group would undoubtedly feel differently now that he was dead, even if it was, really, a weight off their shoulders.

Hajime sighed, attempting to shake himself into motion. Failing.

Chiaki was already beginning to stride forward to begin her investigation. Hajime followed, footsteps even slower, now.

~~~

……….

………………………….

………..

.

PROGRAM –

DAN GAN RON PA 2

………….

……………..

END

……………………….

……………

DISCONNECTING

NEO WORLD PROGRAM

SHUTTING

DOWN.

Hajime—yes, _Hajime!_ —kept his eyes closed. To maintain himself was a greater effort than he would have liked, and with the conflict in his mind, he couldn’t risk letting in outside stimuli just yet. His memories had returned to him, yet, he now had to fight to hold his own self there. That great talent was within him—Izuru lurked at the back of his mind.

“Hey, Hajime?”

At hearing his _own name,_ Hajime’s eyes opened, his identity with newfound security instilled, blurry vision solidifying to slowly bring everyone into focus. _Everyone…_

Everyone except two.

Chiaki was missing.

That was to be expected. The real Chiaki was dead, and the one in the game had not only been executed, but was an AI who could only exist in the Neo World Program. Her absence was… no surprise.

Nagito was missing, too.

Hajime presumed, distantly, that there were dozens of reasons why he, in particular, was lost. He was ill, thus physically weaker. Mentally weaker, too; and unstable. His death was particularly gruesome as well as self-inflicted. The emotional trauma alone could have damaged his file beyond retrieval.

None of these possibilities made Hajime feel any better about Nagito’s absence in the crowd before him. And just before he managed to begin speaking…

“Hey, Hajime! You’re finally up! We were worried about you.”

“Oh shit, dude, your eye! That’s so cool.”

“Don’t be insensitive!”

Again, the words washed over Hajime without him ever managing to process them. This time, though, the sounds were more soothing, happy, and he couldn’t feel his heartbeat pounding in his head—strong enough to be felt in his ears, lips, fingers, every inch of his skin pounding with fear and dread and heartache. This time wasn’t like that; not at all.

“Oh, yeah, Hajime, Nagito was the last one up. He’s still feelin’ pretty bad, so he’s lying down. Do you wanna see him?”

“I… yes.” Hajime’s voice was raspy, unused and unfamiliar. He punctuated his affirmation with a single nod. It made his head hurt a little—he must be a little out of it, still.

“Nagito.”

It was stupid to be happy over Nagito, right? Yeah, it definitely was. _Most likely,_ Hajime’s emotions were messed up at the moment. He _had_ just gotten out of that simulation, after all, and he _had_ just had all his memories suddenly shoved back into his skull, and he did still kinda have that threat of the reappearance of Izuru in the back of his head.

So, yeah. That was why the sight of a living, breathing, conscious Nagito practically sent him delirious with happiness.

“Oh, Hajime…!”

Nagito’s voice pulled Hajime abruptly into reality. The voice was soft, weak, weaker than Hajime was used to on the island. When he paused for a minute, he… Nagito looked sick. It was more reminiscent of the Despair Disease, though at least now Nagito seemed to be breathing and at least kind of tethered to reality.

It was the darkness surrounding his eyes, how alarmingly _pale_ he looked—even more so than usual—the bandages around one arm _where it cut off right below the elbow._

“Oh, this…? Ultimate Despair thing. Jeez, I really am lucky. Even though I became such terrible Despair, I was able to recover and become a stepping stone to hope again. Kazuichi even said he’d be able to fashion a replacement for my arm! Isn’t this the most amazing luck, Hajime? All the Ultimates were saved… and so were you.” Nagito paused with a short sigh. Hajime couldn’t bring himself to give a coherent response, seething with a good third of the emotional spectrum sizzling just beneath his skin. Most notably, anger and relief swirled together into an unsavory sensation that almost made Hajime’s hands shake. “Honestly, though… I suppose… your survival was not _such_ bad luck. It may have been good luck for me. No, I’m certain of it. The survival of the Ultimates _and_ you is so lucky for me that I may die in a plane crash tomorrow!”

“You’re not—You’re not going on a plane tomorrow.”

“Exactly my point, Hajime.”

Hajime sighed, somewhere between irritated and amused. He was mostly frustrated by how little _anger_ he was summoning in response to Nagito’s antics. The room fell into a soft silence, Nagito gazing casually up at the ceiling and Hajime ‘casually’ watching Nagito’s slow, methodical breathing.

He recalled for a moment his last free time spent with Chiaki. They’d walked around the beach, and talked, and laughed, and played together. He’d noticed, then, how much more frequently Chiaki’s face would flash with hot pink—even red. He remembered the warmth in his chest, even when shaded from the sun. His heartbeat slowly rising when she smiled. Hajime remembered, ruefully, being completely sure for the first time in his life, that he was falling in love with someone.

Now, Hajime looked at Nagito.

The feeling wasn’t so different, after all.


End file.
